


Two Words

by MrSandman



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Artists, Autumn, Coffee, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble, Ficlet, Gen, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Sorry, No Dialogue, Painting, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Protests, Roommates, Sharing an Appartment, Snow, Triple Drabble, Winter, doctor who - Freeform, does this even count as angst who knows, is mentioned, it only gets mentioned none actually happens, kind of but not really a drabble, not the author that's for sure, well R is, well actually it's set in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSandman/pseuds/MrSandman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He comes home, as he usually does, in a flurry of papers and blond curls in his eyes, peeling off assorted scarves and hats and gloves, that had been foisted upon him earlier that day by scrabbling, overprotective hands and slightly worried eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Words

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't know where this tiny bite of sadness came from. But it's been sitting around gathering dust for months, so I'm posting it (to make everyone sad I'm sorry). This is unbeta-ed, so any and all mistakes are mine.
> 
> If you want to really wallow in the sadness, I recommend listening to Northern Downpour by Panic! at the Disco while reading, which I ended up listening to while reading this over, soon realising that it was a terrible mistake.
> 
> Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, I don't own any of these characters. The plot and only the plot is mine. Also I'm not making any money from this - only for fun folks!

He comes home, as he usually does, in a flurry of papers and blond curls in his eyes and assorted scarves and hats and gloves that had been foisted upon him earlier that day by scrabbling, overprotective hands and slightly worried eyes. Stepping over the threshold into his freezer of a shared apartment, he flicks on the lights and the heating and pulls his various scarves tighter around himself, thinking of warm coffee and cuddles and watching the start of the coming winter's snowfall through the rickety window.

Trudging over to his already overflowing desk in the corner, he dumps a mountain of papers, flyers, posters and other miscellany in a heap (he'll sort through it later, he tells himself), wanders into the kitchen and thunks a mug down onto the counter. He fumbles around making coffee for a few minutes, thoughts only on the caffeine, and then tiredly collapses onto the sofa. 

Which is strangely absent of another warm body cuddled up in a faded green hoodie. 

He glances around, but can't see him. Which is... strange. He should be home now. He should be watching Doctor Who now. He should be painting now.

Painting. He leaps up from the sofa and looks around for wet canvasses or paintbrushes or fresh paint splatters. But there are none. 

He had started painting again. He _had_. There hadn't been any bottles around the house for weeks and weeks.

Face white, the mug of coffee slips from his grasp and crashes to the floor, dark brown seeping into the cream rug. He runs to the door of their shared bedroom, slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor, and yanks at the handle frantically. 

The door swings open to reveal the room untouched, save for a single piece of paper on his pillow.

He suddenly feels like he's underwater. Legs weighed down, breathing impossible, a heavy thudding in his ears.

He staggers over to the bed and hesitates, afraid to touch the paper, afraid to make it real.

But he does anyway, because he has to know.

Two words on tearstained paper.

Two words.

_I'm sorry_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. But I left the ending open, so interpret it as happily (or sadly) as you like.
> 
> (Also I slipped in my 'Grantaire is a huge nerd who loves Doctor Who' headcanon, because c'mon, I can't be the only one who sees it!)
> 
> If you guys want to send me prompts/requests/headcanons (and want to receive virtual cookies and eternal friendship in return), come hit me up at kingisdead.tumblr.com :)
> 
> (((Also comments, kudos, constructive criticism etc. are all very much appreciated.)))


End file.
